Short Story Wednesday

Premeditated Cat, Part 2

Dear Readers,

Each Wednesday I post a short story or a longer story in parts, so here we go again. In Part 1, we learn that poor Nikki has the worst home life and her only escape in summer is the art class. This year, a strange teacher’s in charge, and he’s eliminating one student after another. Nikki fears she may be next.

Premeditated Cat, Part 2

Mr. Cigam didn’t see Brent’s rude gesture because he was intent on tearing another boy’s drawing into tiny bits as the rest of the class stared at him, mouths open. By the time he scattered the pieces on the boy’s desk, the boy was already gone.

At the end of the hour, only four students remained. Nikki and Clarise were two. A couple of freshmen boys were the others. Each time the teacher passed her desk, Nikki had trouble keeping her hand from shaking, even though he only hummed or nodded at her before moving on. Just before she’d finished the last stroke to complete the image of the fly, Mr. Cigam slid the paper from under her pencil.

“Well done.”

“But—” She didn’t have time to lodge her complaint about not having finished. And perhaps that was for the best. She didn’t want to be forced to leave the class and return home.

“Now that we have only true artists, we begin,” Mr. Cigam said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He reached behind his back and brought forth a dark blue drawstring bag. Then carefully, he opened it, felt inside, and pulled out the skeletal remains of a small animal which he set on the desk.

“Gross,” Clarise muttered.

“Rattus norvegicus. Wharf rat. Examine its bones carefully.” Next to the skeleton he propped a picture of how the rat looked just beneath the skin. “This is the next layer. Notice how a rat’s muscles attach to the ligaments and stretch over the bones.” He reached behind the desk and brought up a real stuffed rat.

“I’m going to be sick.” Clarise covered her mouth with her hand.

“Take your time before you start to draw, dear artists. Come close, and look at this creature from the inside out.” Mr. Cigam stepped back, and while the boys eagerly clustered around the display, the girls stayed a few feet away.

Nikki didn’t like rats, even stuffed ones, but finally, she went to the desk and studied each of the items. When she came to the stuffed animal, she knew she was looking at it differently than she would have before she saw its bones, muscles, and tendons.

As she began to draw the rat, she pictured it from the bones out. When she’d almost finished, Mr. Cigam patted her on the shoulder. “Well done. Stop right there.”

“But I’m not finished with—”

“I see that, dear Nikki, but trust my judgment. Don’t add the last stroke to its tail.” Something in the way he spoke to her made her shudder, or maybe it was her drawing. It was the most real-looking rat she’d ever seen on paper.

Each day after class, she and Clarise and the two remaining boys huddled together, trying to figure out if they should bail. In the end, they admitted they were intrigued by what the nutty Cigam would do next, and their art had improved a lot. Although they were scared he’d pounce on their work and tear it apart, either literally or figuratively, they came. And every day, Mr. Cigam withdrew something different from his blue drawstring bag. Tiny burrowing creatures were first; then came snakes and lizards—always from the skeleton out.

Nikki concentrated on each of the lessons. It helped to keep her from thinking about all the drama at home.

Her stepfather had been out of control the whole week after he’d been forced to take a pay cut at work. Mom had barricaded herself inside the bathroom, sobbing, and Nikki skipped breakfast so she could be far, far away from them both.

Each night Nikki locked her bedroom door and tried to draw, but it was impossible with her stepfather’s screaming.

“Stop blubbering or I’ll give you something to blubber about,” he’d say. Or, “You and your brat can take a hike any time. You make me sick.”

She dreaded the end of the art lessons when she’d have no excuse for leaving the house each day. When the last week with Mr. Cigam arrived, he announced, “Now for flowers.”

The boys groaned, and when he placed a root clump in front of each of them, one freshman swept his supplies onto the floor and stomped out. “This is crap!

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Next week Part 3. I hope you’ll come back to see what Mr. Cigam and Nikki will be up to in that art class. But for now, how about some free books from some excellent writers.

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